Just then Ralph spots the dogs roaming around and lurches forward, knocking Cora’s knees as he goes. In slow motion, she teeters on the edge of the riverbank. No one moves. Her arms start to swing. The banner goes in first with a splash. She turns to reach for it too late. Her friends put their hands to their mouths and noses as she topples forward, down the riverbank, one arm out to save herself, and plunges into the water. Her friends freeze. My mouth drops open. She stands in the knee-high water, spluttering and cursing and shaking a green plant off her wet arms and hands. She is furious. Ralph, though, is thrilled at this new game and launches himself into the river, with a huge splash, adding insult to injury. And although I want to call him out of the water, I can’t speak. I’m worried that the only sound to come out of my mouth will be nervous laughter.

I turn quickly to the hut, unlock it, take the big pan in and put it on the side. Outside I hear, ‘Get me out! You won’t hear the last of this! This is why you’re not wanted here!’

I can hear a kerfuffle and a cheer, just like when they got the blue settee out of the river, and I can’t help but think that just desserts have been served at the riverside clearing tonight, along with my lemon and lavender chicken.

Later, as the sun is setting, we take the empty pans back to Le Petit Mas. The plates and cutlery have been washed up and cleared away into the hut. Our diners have thanked us and the honesty box is full. Rhi is still at the hospital with Henri, and Lou is taking another stroll along the riverbank with Alain, who wants to show her the bats. She promises she’ll be back soon. ‘Alain will walk me home, don’t worry,’ she says.

JB, Stephanie and Tomas walk with Fabien, Ralph and me, Fabien insisting on helping to carry things back to the farmhouse, and although we could have managed without him, I don’t want him to leave, not yet.

Stephanie and JB put Tomas to bed, and suddenly it’s just me, Fabien and a bottle of rosé, looking out over the valley to the setting sun. The smell of the pines and the lavender are all around us, and the cicadas are chirping in the trees. I don’t think there is anywhere I’d rather be right now, or anyone else I’d rather be with. I’m nervous, yet it’s just Fabien, I tell myself.

‘How’s Carine?’ I ask, trying to make conversation.

‘Fine. Busy.’ He moves his head from side to side. ‘She has an active social life. Actually,’ he twists the stem of his wine glass, ‘she’s pregnant.’